


The Balcony Scene

by rhysgore



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:32:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysgore/pseuds/rhysgore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were very few things that Clara Oswald could not protect the Doctor from, and unfortunately this was one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Balcony Scene

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Tumblr user mandorways, who is awesome and you should totally hit up if you have a chance. She was gracious enough to let me use a prompt she came up with and hopefully my slightly humorous porn graced her in return.

Clara Oswald was fragmenting into a thousand pieces. A thousand, million versions of herself, in every time, on ever planet, of every species. There were Cyberclaras and Claradipose and Trakenclaras, several hundred Humanclaras, Dalekclaras, Timelordclaras, Autonclaras, and as many more as could possibly be imagined. Different as they were, however, they all shared a common mission; protect the Doctor, at all cost. 

They managed this quite well, considering. There were a few slip ups (Metabilis 3, Logopolis, that much earlier incident with the Time Lords that she really couldn’t have helped in, no really, she hadn’t been a council member in any lifetime.) but most of the time, the Claracollective did its duty admirably, protecting the Doctor from the dangers of the universe that neither he nor his companions, as brave and brilliant as they were, could face by themselves. 

The Claracollective would talk about Androzani and Bad Wolf TV. These were mistakes that they would acknowledge and attempt to fix. However, no one would ever talk about That One Incident. 

It was a slip up, but a slip up that could have, would have, should have been prevented. Embarrassing for most people involved, and an ugly blotch on Servobotclara’s record, That One Incident was largely purged from the memories of the universe and most written records, but it is still, still remembered by some. 

It began, as many things unfortunately do, with a plot to take over the universe. A ridiculously convoluted plot that involved the mass-production of a very specific type of hovercraft, produced at the factory Clarabot was charged with the maintenance of. Clarabot didn’t understand it, nor did she care. What she did care about, however, was the fact that below the service balcony she worked on, the argument of a lean blond man wearing a cream jacket and a jaunty hat and a shorter bearded man dressed rather ridiculously (In her opinion) in black velvet was reaching near shouting levels. 

The part of her mind- AI, as it was- connected to the Claracollective told her she should go down there and break up the fight, as did the other, less dominant servobot part of her, which was also telling her that the two men should not have even been in this area of the factory. However, Clarabot ignored both of these parts of her, something she as a collective entity would regret later in life. 

“… Can’t you… Alone…” Clarabot could only catch a few words of what the blond one was saying. She crept slightly closer on the balcony towards the pair, watching them coolly through her whirring bionic eyes. “I am honestly very tired of cleaning up your messes all the time. It’s an incredibly frustrating pastime, I’ll have you know.” 

“Are you sure that’s the only reason you’re frustrated, Doctor?” The bearded one was facing away from Clarabot now, but she was close enough to see them both clearly, and to make out the suddenly sharpened expression on the blond one’s face. 

“What are you talking- mmph!” There was a wet noise as the bearded one kissed the one who seemed to be a Doctor, quite aggressively, then pulled back almost immediately. 

A moment of silence. Clarabot leaned forwards, feeling like she had made a good decision to not intervene. 

“Oh. I see.” The Doctor said, and just like that they were kissing again, wrapping arms around each other as they tumbled back towards the wall and onto the floor, shedding their clothing as fast as possible until the Doctor laid on the floor, arching his back and moaning wantonly as the other man moved a finger in and out of him. He breathed out obscenities, and somehow amongst his filthy praise, Clarabot deduced that the other man’s name was “Master.” 

Strange name, she thought absently, though she wasn’t about to consider it too much as the Master was about to shove his cock into the Doctor. He hitched up the Doctor’s legs, aligned himself, and thrust almost brutally. When the Doctor cried out in pleasure Clarabot squirmed in her seat, the sight an sound affecting certain parts of her anatomy she was certain it was not necessary for a servobot of her class to have in a way she was definitely certain it was not necessary for them to be. 

The Doctor gasped and groaned again and again as the Master fucked him vigorously, drawing the occasional long, sensuous moan from the Master, and Clarabot was certain that her face was red enough to be seen even in the dim light of the service balconies. She briefly considered the possibility of masturbation but decided that since she was a robot it would feel ridiculous and probably lead nowhere. 

Finally, and with only a sharp intake of breath, the Doctor came, mouth wide and gasping, hands digging into the Master’s shoulders, eyes fluttering shut. Not far behind, the Master pounded into him a few more times, then pulled out completely, straddling the Doctor’s chest and hips. He gave himself a few short strokes, then gave a low, rumbling groan and came all over the Doctor’s face. 

Clarabot thought for a second, ridiculously, that she should applaud, but she didn’t particularly feel like having her CPU torn out of her and stomped under two separate pairs of shoes, and therefore kept it to herself. 

The two men laid on the ground for a moment, the Master tracing patterns on the Doctor’s bare chest, the Doctor licking semen off of anywhere his tongue could reach. 

“Well, that was… Nice…” The Doctor said, in the awkward tones of one who had consented to being fucked and then ejaculated on by a man who had until 20 minutes ago been trying to kill him and take over the planet. “Do you by chance have a napkin?” With a laugh, the Master rolled off the Doctor’s chest, and fished around in his discarded velvet garments. From a rarely used pocket, he pulled out a package of wet wipes, and began to gently clean off the Doctor’s face, much to the other man’s surprise. And surprisingly enough, in a room full of time travelers and whatever the Claracollective was, no one could feel the future of the entire universe shift and change around them.  



End file.
